


one thing I really do need

by kettsinn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas, Consent Issues, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Harry Potter Next Generation, Masturbation, Not Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-24 22:48:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17109629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kettsinn/pseuds/kettsinn
Summary: Scorpius' hands lacked nothing, firm and soft in equal measure. As he dragged his thumb against the swell of her breast, the ripples of pleasure grew greater until Rose felt dizzy.





	one thing I really do need

**Author's Note:**

> **Trigger Warning: Consent Issues.**
> 
> There's a bit near the middle where Rose does something in bed that makes Scorpius freak out. They stop and briefly discuss it before continuing. The brief moment of non-consent is accidental and discussed. I've tagged this as Consent Issues as this seemed the most appropriate tag.

Another Christmas cracker flapped past Rose’s ear, honking loudly and spritzing glitter over the pages of her book. She leant forward and slapped it out of the air, feeling nothing but delight at the crumple of paper beneath her palm. The cracker let out an indignant squeak and shuddered, shaking more glitter off its wings before flying off in huff.

 _Christmas_.

Rose felt irritation bubble inside her as another honking cracker kamikazed over her head. The sound of the rain outside grew louder, the shrill jingle of bells on the tree became more insufferable and the kettle on the stove started shrieking in agitation. Grandma Molly bustled in suddenly to move it off the stove with a merry chuckle. Task done, she smiled at Rose as though the rising crescendo of noise was tolerable.  “Everything alright, dear?”

“Yep.” A bird figurine rattled through the space between them and collided into the heavily-decorated tree. Rose gritted her teeth. “Absolutely fine.”

“Is that so, dear?” Grandma Molly asked. The curtness in Rose’s answer should have made it clear that the opposite was true. “Perhaps you should go upstairs for a while, pet. Rest your eyes. Your cousins aren’t due for a few hours and we can spare you until then.”

The thought of spending another few hours trying to relax amid the chaos of the Burrow made Rose want to fall on something sharp and dangerous. Even the fire seemed dim compared to the discordant clash of colour around them. The kettle hiccupped pathetically from the stove and Rose watched on as an errant sprig of holly zoomed through the air and came to nestle against the soft wool of Grandma Molly’s hat.

Grandma Molly’s smile beamed brighter and she raised her free hand to brush against the smooth fall of the leaves. Rose restrained herself from rolling her eyes. Even this little sign of happiness felt insufferable amid the cacophony of howling crackers and fizzing baubles and wittering bird ornaments. Enough was enough.

With a brusque nod, Rose slammed her book closed. She stood up and tried a polite half-smile. “Thanks, Granny. Let me know if you need me.”

“Not at all, dear. I’m sure your father is outside showing off his latest invention if you’d prefer that.” The kettle hiccupped loudly and Grandma Molly turned back to it, muttering soothing things until the noise faded.

Rose turned and strode across the creaking planks of the living room, went up and up the winding, serpentine stairs that led to her room. Outside would be no better: lights that winked and shivered in time to carols; gnomes whipping each other with frosty birch twigs; Grandpa and Dad arguing loudly about some Muggle object that they’d altered until it was unusable. The whole house was a claustrophobic mess. It was suffocating.

Light spilled in a steady, unerring line from beneath her brother’s door as Rose passed by it. She shuffled quickly past the room and heard laughter. There was a loud thud and a booming slap as something fell over. It was likely that Hugo was messing around with a new charm that would end in mild disaster. Yesterday, he had arrived downstairs with half his left eyebrow missing. No one had asked what had happened. It was as likely for Hugo to have spelled it off by accident as to have shaved it off on purpose.

As she rose higher, the bustling and chatter and yelling fell away. Rose’s room – if it could be called that, being so small – in the attic was a neat space of inky darkness. The dark was soft, a light murkiness that huddled away from the candles that glowed near the rafters. Rain tapped quietly against the roof, the sound quiet and pleasant. Beneath the window, the radiator purred and clicked in a way that was wholly unmagical.

Rose pushed her door closed and settled against the plush comfort of her bed with a sigh. She slid beneath a blanket, stretched her arms out until they clicked and breathed deeply, listening to the sound of her breath rise and fall against the glowing candlelight. She closed her eyes, humming.

Her mind drifted pleasantly through recent memories as she lay in the half-light: a conversation with Mum about work; the scent memory of drinking pumpkin ale in Hogsmeade; the tousled neatness of bright hair against the pink tones of brick. Her thoughts grew and shrunk, spun away and circled back as Rose let the quiet smooth away her frustration.

The soft cotton of the sheets felt like a balm against Rose’s skin. Her thoughts wandered back to Scorpius and she wondered where he was right now. Perhaps he was seeking refuge from the loudness of Christmas too. An image appeared before her of Scorpius wearing the kind of gaudy jumper that her Father favoured. Amusing, but doubtful. From the little he’d told her, it seemed like the Malfoy family weren’t the kind of wizards to celebrate Christmas.

It struck Rose then, how strange it was to know someone as intimately as she knew Scorpius and yet to not know whether he even observed Christmas or not. It was possible that he didn’t. More than possible. After the war, some wizards had begun to embrace Muggle culture and celebrations more fully while others had kept to the old traditions. Draco Malfoy – from what Rose had heard – seemed like the kind of wizard to celebrate the Winter Solstice rather than Christmas.

Her musing broke as the rain increased in tempo, starting to thud and lash against the small window near her feet. Clouds were a pewter smear that blotted out the sky and seem to blacken a row of evergreens that stood sentinel at the edge of the woods. Rose sat up, chewed at her bottom lip, and watched the world outside shift and change with the weather.

Scorpius had mentioned long hours spent reading with his mother at some point between the time they’d met near the trophy room and another time when they’d snuck into the toilets near the Owlry. The smell of the birds had been particularly pungent, enough for them to reject using the toilets again. Or perhaps he would be reading. Rose could imagine the creases that formed at the corner of Scorpius’ eyes when he leant closer to a page; she could see his lips forming around the shape of a new word, see their plush redness as he moved. Rose brushed a fingertip against her own mouth, skin tingling, as if to trace the echo of his lips.

Scorpius might run his finger down the edge of the page, pupils dilating as the sunlight rose and fell away, and then he would lean back in his chair, stretching out his long, lithe legs. He would look up at her because she would be there – of course she would, they always read together in the library – and his tongue would dart out to wet the fullness of his upper lip. She would swallow and lean forward, push her work to the side and stretch her body over the wooden desk so their mouths met.

Rose shook her head and leaned back, banishing the image. She untucked her legs and lay flat, feet dangling off the end of the bed. It did no good to imagine these things. The radiator was a warmth that shuddered against her toes, mirroring the flush of heat that had risen to her cheeks, and the muscles of her legs started to relax. Rose settled her fingers against the pulse of her throat, feeling the steady rhythm of her heart.

A hungry thing seemed to whisper, _what next_?

“What next?” Rose whispered to no one. Her voice was a shock against the human silence of the room and she giggled at the silliness of it. “Next, I would...”

Would what? There were many moments before where Rose had touched herself the dark: this was nothing new. It was certainly where her fantasy was headed. Thinking about Scorpius was familiar, too. They had a thing, they slept together. For fun and silliness and something to do.

 _Which is exactly what this is_ , Rose mused. _Fun and silliness._

Bringing the two veins together – self-pleasure and Scorpius – felt new and different. Sometimes when she couldn’t sleep in her dormitory, Rose’s sleep-warm mind flickered with images of Scorpius doing any number of things: chewing at a pencil, licking water off his lips, titling his hand towards the rain as they ran to Ancient Runes.

Rose swallowed, anticipation mountain. She brushed her fingers down against the bright swell of her ribs, mapping the texture of her skin. Her body seemed to hum with the desire to be touched and pleasure became a languid, unwinding thing that stretched out like a cat.

A jolt of pleasure stuttered beneath her skin as she nipped and scratched lightly against her breasts. Rose swept a hand up to scratch through her hair and pleasure pulsed within her. She shuddered and moved her fingers down past the fabric of her jeans to circle at her clit, flicking the nub once, twice, more. A small moan floated out into the air, sudden, unrestrained, and Rose turned to muffle herself against the pillow. She moved her hand lower until everything was heat, until wetness slicked the ridge of her fingers and her knuckles slipped lower–

Screaming; a metallic shriek; a sound like the blast-clap of a car back-firing burst from behind her door. Rose ripped her hands out of her jeans and rushed up off the bed, panting. “What the–”

Loudly, “Sorry!”

There was a knock and a loud “ow” before Rose reached the door, yanking it open to find– “Scorpius?”

“Hi, I–”

The sound of feet stomping on the stairs interrupted him and Hugo’s voice sounded from below. “Oi! Give it over, Rose!”

Rose looked at Scorpius, who looked from her to the staircase and back with frantic urgency. Rose cleared her throat and yelled, “Uh. Sorry?”

A pause. A stair creaked. Hugo grunted, then stomped back to his room. The slam of a door came as a relief; Rose felt her shoulders drop and she whistled lowly through her teeth.

Scorpius reached a hand up to feather through his hair. “Merlin. Crisis averted.”

“Crisis?” Rose felt colour rise to her cheeks at the sight of his ruffled hair and easy smile. She shook her head, scowling. She prodded him in the chest, irritated again. “Have you gone mad? What are you doing here?”

“Uh.”

“What do you think is going to happen if my parents found out that you teleported – _illegally_ I might add – into my bedroom?”

“I didn’t travel _illegally_ ,” Scorpius said, hands up and palms open. “I found a charm that looked a bit like a portkey actually, on the side of–”

“You _found_ a charm and just decided to use it? You idiot! What an incredibly _stupid_ thing to do. Why did you do that? Why?”

Scorpius’ grin faltered slightly, enough that Rose felt vindicated. What right did he have to show up unannounced at her grandparent’s home? What right did he have to look so relaxed? A wave of crimson fury overwhelmed the dulcet tones of irritation that throbbed behind her eyes.

He shuffled in place, blinking slowly. “Oh. Well, I...”

Rose stood before him, resisting the urge to tap her foot impatiently. The urge to say something like ‘I’m waiting’ grew in its place. Her fingers started to drum a restless tattoo against her thigh. “Well?”

Scorpius shrugged and looked off to the side. “It is what it is.”

“I hope you have a way to get back without having to exit this room again,” Rose said, her tone bitter. His answer was ridiculous. “Because I most certainly won’t be parading you downstairs.”

“I see.” He thumbed at the underside of his chin. “I’m sorry. I can go now, if you’d like?”

 _If she’d like_. Anger shot through with pleasure still rushed through her blood, but with that she felt something closer to...guilt. Perhaps he’d been trying to escape someone too.

“No,” Rose said, sighing and feeling her resentment dissolve. “It’s fine. You’re here now.”

“Right.” Scorpius paused, looked her up and down, and then let his hand fall away from his hair. “You look good.”

“You too.” Rose offered him a light smile, noting the dejected hunch of his shoulders and felt guilty. She felt awkward, despite herself. Conversation had always flowed easily between them. This might have been their first fight; she couldn’t remember. With a wince, Rose said, “I’m sorry too. I overreacted.”

He smiled softly down at her. The bright green of his eyes seemed to glisten despite the dim light coming in from the skylight above them. “You weren’t ready to see me, I get it.”

Rose grinned. “Do you?”

They were both still outside her room. As soon as Hugo decided he was bored, he would be able to hear them both. Rose let out a breath and made a decision. Wrapping a hand around Scorpius’ wrist, she guided his palm gently away from his jeans and led him inside her room.

They walked the few steps backwards and Scorpius clicked the door shut behind them. The space between them seemed alive, dancing with the flickering light of the candles. Rose felt her nerves hum where his skin touched hers and she swallowed, mouth dry.

“If you have nowhere else to be,” Rose began, fixated on the bobbing motion of his Adam’s apple. “You can stay.”

Scorpius smiled softly. Light licked shadows against his cheekbones, a stark contrast to the rainstorm outside. Rose felt a rush of affection and longing move through her; a rasping, wet sensation that scoured her insides until her nerves sang golden and bright. She felt like an autumn leaf that yearned for the very sunlight that, waning, would cause its own destruction: desperate, shivering, nervous for more.

“Stay,” Scorpius echoed in agreement. He reached out and pulled the soft cotton of her top free from where part of it had caught beneath the waistband of her jeans. His smile, previously wavering, grew bright. “It’s unlike you to look so messy. What were you doing?”

Rose looked down and felt her mouth go dry. She looked fine. “What?”

“Shirt half-tucked in, hair all over the place. Rose Weasley, what were you doing?” His voice was deeper when he spoke and there was something throaty caught between the syllables.

Heat rushed to her face and Rose knew, then, that he had heard her squeal before. That her secret bit of fun was no longer a secret. Sex wasn’t a source of shame for her, but there was something about being _caught_ that felt illicit, delicious. Rose jerked when she felt his hand wrap around the clothed skin of her stomach. She swallowed and felt off-kilter, uncomfortable by the sudden presence of his hands around her. They didn’t usually work like this: him the leader and her following.

“Ah,” Rose said, stepping forward when she felt his other hand come to rest against her hip.

Scorpius’ brow wrinkled and his grip loosened. “What?”

His face was handsome, beautiful even, in this light. Rose felt certain of what she had to do. She stepped forward and softly pressed her open palm against his sternum. Just as softly, she leant up to whisper in his ear.

“Should I tell you?” Rose widened her stance, feeling her sense of courage return. She steeled herself with it: straightening her spine until it was a rod forged of iron, feet welded to the floor, joy bubbling like lava in the pit of her stomach. She blew lightly against the lobe of his ear, and watched as his neck turned to gooseflesh. “Should I tell you what I was doing or should I show you?”

Scorpius hesitated, fingers clenching and unclenching against her. He was far quicker to relent than she expected, pleasantly so. She pulled him forward, pushed herself up with the grip around his neck and pressed her lips against Scorpius’ in a quick kiss. He tasted peppermint and almonds. His mouth moved against hers, his lips softer than any other boy she had kissed, breath warm.

 “Rose,” Scorpius said shakily. She stepped out of the circle of his embrace and his fingers twitched as though to reach after her. “Go on, show me. Let me see.”

“In a minute.” Rose pointed to the bed and made her voice sound harder than she felt. “Sit there.”

She had a moment, a precious bit of time to get herself in control. It was as if he knew – after all this time, surely he did – that she needed space before they started. Scorpius sat, bedsprings creaking softly with the movement, and Rose closed her eyes.

The metal of her courage was still there, still firm and constant and reliable. The idea that a woman was a submissive, charming, nice person had been a discordant echo in her heart before she met Scorpius; she was demanding and possessive and made of steel. Like this, he brought out the best in her. Desire turned her sharp and hard, not soft and malleable, and she needed a moment to blunt the edges of her lust.

“Follow me.” Rose opened her eyes and scooped his hands into hers, cradling them. “Touch me here.”

She guided him slowly over her clothes to touch her breasts, her nipples, her thighs. Scorpius’ gaze was unwavering. His throat seemed to spasm and bob when he swallowed. After a long minute, repeating the cycle twice, Rose let go and motioned to herself. With permission, Scorpius began to touch, charting the path she had laid out.

His hands lacked nothing, firm and soft in equal measure, and Rose shivered against the touch as he kept the unfaltering rhythm of breasts, hair, stomach, clit. Every time he dragged his thumb against the swell of her chest, the ripples of pleasure grew greater until Rose felt dizzy from the touch and had to squeeze her thighs together just to ease the sharp ache between them.

He murmured something and it took Rose a moment to realise that he was asking a question, repeating it again. Her ears felt numb. Rose leant down and curved her lips over Scorpius’ own instead of answering. His tongue licked tentatively against the roof of her mouth, at odds with the surety of his hands.

“Stop,” She said, drawing her lips away. Rose dragged her hand down the back of his shirt, felt her grip slide over a prominent bump in his spine and paused, tracing the ridge thoughtfully. “Yes, that was perfect.”

Scorpius’ voice was husky with desire, his eyes black in the dim light. “What happened next?”

“Then you interrupted me,” Rose said, smiling as she curved her thumb down to press against the jut of his pale collarbones. “So, we’ll never know.”

Scorpius’ hair was the loudest colour in the room, delicate and bright, clean snow and white feathers against a raging sky, and Rose couldn’t look away from where a lock dipped and fluttered as he nodded politely.

“But I suppose I could let you make it up to me,” Rose thought aloud. She swiped her fingers in neat lines at the base of his hairline and listened to the rapid increase in his breathing rate. Her fingertips paused against the sensitive skin there. “Yes? Take your shirt off while I think about it.”

Scorpius made to pull his shirt over his head, letting out a muffled, confused sound when Rose stayed still, arms impeding his efforts. He titled his head up to speak but Rose halted the action, slanting her lips down over his. The taste of peppermint and almonds was faint now; instead, the warm moistness of Scorpius’ breath overwhelmed her.

Rose moved and Scorpius freed himself. His hands came up to rest confidently at the small of her back, a warm pressure that turned her simmering lust into a dull roar. When she shifted in place, Rose could feel the hot line of his cock against her thigh. She reached down, laid a palm against his hardness and rubbed slowly, sensually. He whimpered.

“Delicious,” Rose said, pulling back enough to meet his bright eyes. “I could just eat you up.”

A memory of a mouth against heat rose before her. A tongue licking _there_. Rose encircled the clothed head of Scorpius’ cock with her hand. Her heart pounded as she let herself imagine it: him on his knees, eyes staring eagerly up at hers, waiting on her desire. Rose squeezed once, twice, around him until the sound of Scorpius’ panting grew louder than the rain. The scent of his warm breath had lust uncurling in her gut.

“You could eat _me_ up,” Rose said, with a dark smile. “Would you like that?”

 “Uh,” Scorpius said. He swallowed against the sudden dryness of his mouth. “Yes. Let me, please.”

Rose nodded slowly, tracing a finger down the curve of his pale ear. Scorpius flashed a wobbly grin at her, then got to his knees, mouth wet, sliding off the sheets. He hit the paneled floor with a dull crack and Rose watched as a blush blossomed, spread, stained the paleness of his cheeks. In her hands, the curls of his hair felt glossy and thick.

Sex turned Scorpius quiet – quieter than usual – and the steady focus of his eyes upon her made Rose yearn for his mouth against her. His fine hands moved up to scratch lightly at curve of her hipbone and Rose spread her legs wider, feet far enough apart for him to slot his face right into the crease between them.

Her first instinct had never been to lie back and spread her legs but, as Rose watched Scorpius lean forward and mouth at the thick denim covering her crotch, she felt weak with the impulse to do so. His hands reached up for the waistband of her jeans almost at the same time as she reached down and together they peeled off her jeans. Rose stepped out of them and then stepped back towards his wanting mouth.

 “Ready?”

Scorpius licked his lips and nodded, eyes focused and unblinking.

His breath was hot against her thigh, damp against the sensitive join of hip and leg. Rose arched towards the sensation, eager, ready, and Scorpius rose up to lick her clit with firm, sure strokes. Her voice trailed off into unsteady, desperate whimpers when his tongue pressed harder and deeper against her. Scorpius licked lines of hot desire into her skin until Rose’s heartbeat was a ferocious pulse that made her blood skitter, sharp and desperate.

“Fuck,” Rose said, feeling her lip start to bleed as she bit down hard.

Scorpius ground down against her leg a little, the angle awkward from where he knelt, and Rose let loose a breathy laugh at the perfect match they made – both hollowed by lust and the need to escape their families. Looking down at him from this angle was really something: Scorpius’ eyelashes were dark smudges that struck against the hungry colour of his eyes; his lips gone red from licking her; his hair tousled from the pull and push of her hands.

Rose whimpered again, grinding down against the brilliant heat of his mouth. She felt flush with it, with need and she _wanted_ to press down and up and deeper and fuller until she could ride the electric shock of pleasure. Rose groaned, angled Scorpius’ head insistently down towards her entrance. She arched in surprise when the hard knuckles of his hand pressed up against her, solid and hard, and moaned again when he mouthed a wet, open kiss against her inner thigh.

Rose was struck by the contrast – soft and hard – as his fingers thrust into her rhythmically, wonderfully. His hair smelt of vanilla and almonds, always of almonds, and then his fingers moved against a spot so bright and pleasure-painful that the sharpness made her hiss. Lust built within her, he bit hard against her thigh, curved his knuckles up against that bright spot and Rose exploded, legs quivering against the brutality of her orgasm. Moans spilled from her as Scorpius’ fingers drove relentlessly on through the shock of pleasure and she shivered against the feeling, pain looming on the horizon of pleasure, until she had to push him away.

“Ah,” Rose said, chest rising and falling. She was panting – the sound overwhelmed the rain and filled the room – and Scorpius licked his lips. “Fuck.”

Scorpius hummed and knelt upwards to bring his mouth, covered in the wetness of her, against hers. Rose groaned. The taste of herself was sour, thick and she curved a shaking hand down to rest at the back of his neck. His expression was intense and lovely and eager when she pulled back and rested their foreheads together. 

Rose closed her eyes briefly, cradling his head in her hands. He made no move to break the stillness of the moment. She opened her eyes to see the angry swell of Scorpius’ cock against his jeans and Rose was filled with fondness for him.

“Sweetheart,” she murmured. “Thank you.”

“Thanks.” Scorpius’s voice was breathless when he spoke – deep too, made deeper by lust. He echoed her words, eyes glassy, attention elsewhere.

“Oh, of course,” Rose said, laughing. “We make an excellent team.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. His fingers stroked at the muscles still quivering in her thigh. Rose was shocked by how sensitive the skin felt still and tutted, batting his hand away.

Scorpius shuffled where he knelt, one part of his jeans a deeper navy than the rest. Rose almost missed the moment where he brought his fingertips back up to swipe at her thigh, a mischievous expression on his face.

“You’re a menace.” Rose chuckled. She tapped the covers and titled her head. “Get on the bed.”

He stared at her, raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh, sorry. Was that not polite enough?”

“It is Christmas,” Scorpius said, his mouth twitching on a smile.

Rose shook her head, grinning. “Get on the bed. _Please_.”

“Happy to oblige, I suppose,” Scorpius said, wincing slightly at the change in pressure as he moved. The hard line of his cock seemed to have softened while they were speaking. His smile was a comfortable thing, unimpeded by the stress he often wore at Hogwarts. Rose wanted to know why, curiosity like an itch against her skin. He raised his eyebrows at her silence, pale green eyes glinting. “Forgot what you were supposed to be doing?”

“Very funny,” Rose said dryly, taking in the sight of him stretched across the narrow frame of her bed. “You’re a pretty sight, aren’t you?”

Scorpius lifted himself up onto his elbows and stared down the length of his body. They rarely fucked on a bed at Hogwarts: cupboards, closets, toilets, forgotten classrooms, dusty and abandoned passages served them instead. His legs spread out along the cool tones of sheets seemed like a novelty. He shrugged, hair bobbing with the movement. “If you like.”

Rose raised a single eyebrow at the wry tone to his words. She wished that he didn’t sound so unsure about it. “Oh, I do.”

She felt like something was growing inside her again, a hungry maw that demanded to be satisfied. A wash of warmth, her legs weak and Rose moved into kiss Scorpius. What started as a close-lipped platitude grew into a wet, open kiss. The taste of him was constant, unwavering, vanilla and mint. By this point, it was as though Rose’s limbs were conditioned to loosen and spread in response to the familiar taste.  

Her hands searched for skin and the texture of wispy, pale hair against freckled legs but his jeans were in the way.  Rose broke away from Scorpius’ mouth and tucked nimble fingers beneath his waistband, shoving the fabric down. His cock bobbed free and Rose made one more effort of shoving his trousers away before she leant down, pressed her face against the raw seam of cock and pelvis and then inhaled deeply.

“Gah,” Scorpius shouted, hands flailing slightly. “Stop. What are you doing?”

“What?”

“You can’t just go down and _sniff_! That’s not– those aren’t– that’s not alright!”

“What?” Rose blushed, a little mortified despite herself. “I’ve done it before. You didn’t say anything.”

Scorpius swiped a hand over his face, his breathing off-kilter and stuttering. “Urgh.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t– have I killed the mood?” Rose took one look down at his lap and the answer seemed to be no, but the expression on his face was of repulsed horror. She was not certain whether the feeling was directed at herself, or himself, or the situation in general. A curl of shame, hot and thick and ugly, clogged her throat. “I’m really sorry, Scorp’.”

“Just,” Scorpius said, after a long moment. He waved a hand up towards his face, eyes still shut. “It’s fine. Kiss me again.”

His fingers were splayed over his face, expression masked. Rose was hesitant to keep going when he looked so disinterested.

Scorpius peeked through his fingers at her and nodded. The panic of a moment ago had broken, but the serious set of his mouth remained. Rose bit her lip and made to move off the bed and away, her interest lost as shame overtook desire.

Scorpius’ hand shot out and grabbed her wrist loosely. He tilted his head and, when he spoke, his voice was softer as though he was gentling a wayward animal. “Rose. Come on, I’m serious.”

Cautiously, Rose shuffled back towards him. His eyes were clear of hesitance and mild curiously had returned. She paused, uncertain. What harm could it do to try?

With a sigh, Rose moved to press her lips against his. When he opened his mouth slightly against hers, though, she slipped her tongue in, deepening the kiss. Scorpius’ thumb stroked up and down the back of her neck and her breath hitched. She pulled back, breathing hard and flushed.

“Is this alright?” Rose asked, trying to encompass everything that they have done and are about to do. Scorpius looked hale enough that she felt safe to ask a better question. “Great. Can I suck you off now?”

Scorpius laughed freely. He looked far more relaxed and interested now. He folded one of his legs up, ignoring the way his ankles were still wrapped up in his jeans, and shuffled his hips merrily. “Be my guest.”

Ridiculous. Rose scrunched her nose up and moved down the bed to mouth brazenly at his cock. From the way he gasped, Rose decided that she should go for it, buoyed up by his response. She mouthed sloppily at the hot length of him. Rose didn’t need coaxing to move her head up and down, to breathe through her nose or suck on the upstroke.

Scorpius’ hips began to roll gently, thrusting when she sucked hard at the head of his cock. Rose pinched the sensitive skin of his hips in retaliation until he hissed and stopped thrusting. It was less awkward than her first attempt at giving him a blowjob. Scorpius started to shift in the spot when she flicked her tongue over the tip, humming in response to the bitter fluid that leaked there.

She would never tire of this. It felt so natural to follow the shuddering motion of his hips, to feel the salvia dripping down her chin. Above her, Scorpius’ breathing changed and she opened her mouth wider on the downstroke until he bumped the back of her throat.

“Fuck,” Scorpius said, his voice thin and reedy. Hearing how on edge he was made Rose feel hot with delight. Her cunt throbbed at the sound of him. She wanted him to touch her again, felt greedy for the possibility of more.

Her jaw started to ache, her mouth sloppy with spit. Rose pulled off and breathed deep, before pushing herself down over him until his cock hit the very back of her throat and she choked, spluttered around him. Against her calf, Scorpius’ toes curled. In the distance, as though from far away, she heard him groan loudly.

He was close. Rose sucked in firm, rhythmic pulses and felt Scorpius’ tighten beneath her. For a moment, she wished that she could just look up and see the expression he made – his nose wrinkled like he was sneezing and his mouth opened on cut-off grunts that were deep and masculine.

Seed spilled into her mouth, hitting her throat, coating her tongue. Rose swallowed, knew that it was coming, and used one hand to hold Scorpius still as he thrust instinctively upwards. She closed her eyes and only looked up when he stopped.

He looked utterly dishevelled. Rose let loose a warm, mirthful chuckle at the sight and pressed her mouth to his hipbone, taking several deep breaths to calm her burning lungs.

“Shit,” Scorpius said quietly, above her. “Pff. Come here.”

Rose hummed and forced herself to move up to lie against him. “Satisfied?”

Scorpius trailed a shaky hand down her back as they settled against each other, legs tangled in the narrowness of her bed.  “Oh, definitely.”

“Was it worth the journey?”

He laughed, then yawned and his jaw clicked against the force of the movement. “More than worth it. The only thing I had waiting for me at the Manor was another round of cards and a drunken lecture on the family history.”

“Oh,” Rose said, feeling pleased that this had been a mutual distraction, but also disappointed that her guess had been so far off.

Maybe she didn’t know Scorpius as well as she’d believed. It was a startling truth to face; more startling because the separation between them should have been obviously, surely? Rose traced vines and whirls beneath Scorpius’ chest and thought that they probably could steal an hour or so together before he’d have to leave.

A thought struck her suddenly. Rose propped herself up to look down into his green eyes. “Why did you come here? And how? You never answered my question properly.”

“I told you – I found a portkey charm.” Scorpius shrugged, as though the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery was a suggestion rather than the law. “Although maybe it wasn’t a travelling charm. I can’t remember. I was just desperate to leave the house for a bit.”

“So, why here?”

“Um.” Scorpius looked away, voice muted. “I’m not sure. I was thinking about Hogwarts. Then I was thinking about Quidditch try-outs, you know, and about the tower overlooking the practice field. Next thing I know, the colours of my room look like they’re running or bleeding or something and I ended up here.”

“I see,” Rose murmured, although this explanation is no clearer than his first. “How interesting.”

Scorpius reached up and touched her hair, stroked down the easy ridge of her nose, rested fingers behind the skin of her ear. “Yeah. I am sure it’ll get me back. The stone feels itchy, like it wants to pull me back.”

“That’s reassuring,” Rose said dryly. “You have a _feeling_.”

“Sometimes,” Scorpius said, swallowing and meeting Rose’s eyes. “A feeling is enough.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was far more fluffy than I had anticipated. OH WELL. It makes a change for me to write something that doesn't even the pair of them having sex on a train. Maybe this is growth?
> 
> Thank you for reading and a special thanks to anyone who leaves kudos after reading. I hope you enjoyed!


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